


Truths

by ALCzysz17



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Day 3: but that's my point of view, F/M, Fluff, Sansa's POV, incorrect jonsa week, kissing cousins, light hearted humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-07 15:06:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18413111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALCzysz17/pseuds/ALCzysz17
Summary: Sansa drags Jon to the Eyrie for a wedding she doesn't even want to be apart of. During the day of the wedding, she starts to realize some truths and that maybe a certain someone is far more important than she originally realized.





	Truths

**Author's Note:**

> So...this was originally for Day 2: one trope to rule them all, but I didn't finish in time and I changed the premise of the story. Jon and Sansa were going to be half-siblings and have drunken sex. Instead their cousins and Sansa realizes her feelings for Jon. I still meant to do smut but...smut did not happen. Sorry for all those who were hoping for some smut. Maybe the next prompt? Anywho, please enjoy! 
> 
> ^_~

 

 

Sansa shifted the front of her dress, her frown deepening in her reflection when it did nothing to fix the issue. The issue being that it was very noticeable that her right breast was clearly larger than her left. She tilted her head to the right then to the left. Nope, still extremely noticeable. She sighed deeply through her nose, slipping her hand into her bra to try and reset her breasts so it wasn’t terribly noticeable.

“Are you done yet?”

She ignored the question, shifting her dress front again. Irritation balled up underneath her skin. Honestly, it felt like she wanted to rip her skin off her body from how uncomfortable she felt.

“Sansa?”

In the mirror, she watched as the door opened to reveal Jon, her cousin peering around the door. Upon seeing her fully dressed, he grumbled underneath his breath then entered the room with the slam of the door.

“Stop preening and let’s go already!” he grumbled further, grabbing her matching pink shawl to her dress and tossing it over her shoulder. Sansa huffed at his impatience.

“Jon,” Sansa then called out, drawing his attention to her. “Is it obvious that my left breast is smaller than my right?”

It was almost hilarious the way that his jaw dropped in shock at her question, yet she didn’t laugh when she took in his eyes drifting down to glance at her breasts before quickly averting to the wall beside her.

“What kind of stupid question is that? You’re my cousin, I shouldn’t look at or notice the size difference of your breasts.” His heated cheeks said otherwise though.

“I hate this bridesmaid dress! It’s obvious that my right is far bigger than my left.” Sansa dipped her hand back into her dress, ignoring the groan behind her as she fiddled with her bra again.

“Stop touching your breasts! You look fine! Anyway, no one will be looking at you when the bride comes in.”

Sansa huffed again, admitting defeat with slumped shoulders. It really wasn’t about the dress or how her breasts looked in it; not entirely anyway. It was the whole situation she was in. The situation being the wedding of Harry Hardyng and Myranda Royce. At one point, Harry had been the object of her love, but her best friend knowingly swooped in and stole him right out from under her nose.

Myranda was more confident, and she knew how to handle her sexuality as opposed of Sansa, who never really knew how to act sexy. Her head was far too in the clouds with romance and love as her friends would tease and joke. She never stood a chance against Myranda.

So, she stood by and allowed her best friend her victory, and here she was now, forced into an ugly baby pink bridesmaid dress that clashed with her auburn hair, and breasts that were obviously sisters and not twins. What made it even worse was that she couldn’t get a date to the wedding either.

Arya flat-out refused to go, that is, unless she could sucker punch the bride for hurting her sister. Robb was overseas on business in Essos, and her younger brothers wouldn’t be caught dead at a wedding unless their parents forced them. Her cousin, Jon was her last resort, and even with him she had to beg and plead. He complained that he wouldn’t know anyone there as they were traveling to the mountainous regions of the Eyrie.

Sansa didn’t want to travel alone either. Really, she could have asked her younger cousin, Robin to be her date, considering Harry was his third cousin and would be there as well. But that meant enduring her crazy aunt Lysa and her creepy husband.

Petyr Baelish always made her feel like she was walking through slime when in his presence. He made her uneasy with the way he always commented on how much she looked like her mother. Not to mention the very unwelcomed touches he would give her; a hand on her shoulder, a brush against her bottom in passing, and a caress on her cheek.

She most definitely did not want to encounter him alone.

Jon eventually agreed though, taking pity on her, she was sure.

The trip up was nice though. They took turns driving and managed to get there by midnight with the rehearsal the next night and the wedding the day after that.

Sansa had to play nice with Myranda, smiling at her crude jokes and comments about Harry in bed. Mya helped divert much of Myranda’s raunchiness, taking heart that Sansa was still sore about the man of her dreams wedding her best friend.

Ex-best friend, she thought darkly as she adjusted her shawl around her shoulders. She peered at herself one last time in the mirror, noting that though the dress looked horrible on her (misshapen breasts aside), she at least looked beautiful with the intricate up braid of her hair and light, smoky makeup on her face.

Jon came forward to stand a bit behind her with a little tilt of his lips. “You look beautiful, Sansa,” he declared a moment later. She felt the heat of his gaze traveling down her body, leaving twisting warmth in its wake.

She licked her lips with a smile then nodded, turning around to face him. “I think I’m ready to face the music.”

“Then let’s hit it head on.”

The chapel was only a couple of blocks from the hotel they stayed in. Sansa had already endured the picture taking as she got ready with the other bridesmaids in another room on a different floor. She should have been at the chapel already with the rest of them, but she really needed a moment to herself and escaped back to her room.

The moment they entered the chapel, she was ushered off to one of the back rooms for more pictures and unfortunate conversation as Myranda got ready.

“Why the hell is this dress not fitting right?!” Myranda cowed from behind the dressing curtain. Sansa flinched at the loud shrill of her voice echoing around them. Mya rolled her eyes, tapping her foot impatiently.

She could tell Mya was itching for a cigarette. The three other bridesmaids scurried about, preening in the mirrors around the small room or checking the growing crowd in the main hall.

“Mya! Sansa! Get in here!” Myranda yelled next with stomps of her feet. Sansa glanced at Mya, both withholding a sigh before they stood up and entered the curtained off area.

Myranda slapped away the hands of her own grandmother then waved at Mya to help zip up the back of her wedding dress. Sansa noted that it was a beautiful dress. Ivory colored and silky appearing with a beaded front that accented Myranda’s large bosom though the strapless dress showed off the chubbiness of her arms.

“How do I look, Sansa?” the bride asked, giving her a hard stare through the full-length mirror in front of her.

If Sansa had learned anything from going to college at the Vale, then it was how to conceal her true feelings. A graceful smile came to her lips as she said, “You look beautiful, Myranda. Harry will be awestruck once he sees you.”

“Thank you,” Myranda said happily then she added, “I made sure the bridesmaid dresses looked horribly on all of you, so none of you can outshine me.”

Sansa felt a twitch in her cheek, but she managed to hide it when Mya sighed in relief when she finally got the zipper to go up.

“I can’t breath,” Myranda complained, shifting her dress around.

“I thought you went on a diet,” Mya commented, tossing a look to Sansa when Myranda wasn’t looking.

“I did! The dress fit perfectly two weeks ago!”

Sansa heard Mya sarcastically mumble under her breath, “I’m sure it did…”

Myranda called for her grandmother, directing the older woman to her hair to fix. Sansa slowly edged away, hoping to leave unscathed but she was caught quickly and reeled back in.

“Sansa, make sure you cover yourself fully with your shawl. I can tell from here that your breasts are oddly shaped.” Sansa dug her nails into the palms of her hands as Myranda snorted and laughed.

Mya shooed her away, sparing her from further torment. Sansa vacated the room entirely with the need for fresh air. She glanced out at the front of the church where people were getting seated. It was a rather large crowd, both bride and groom having large families. Sansa was able to pinpoint Jon’s location in the very back, staring down at his phone and ignoring the chatter and people around him.

Seeing him helped. She could get through this day then the very next morning they were going to hall ass back to Winterfell as soon as possible. Sansa was already looking forward to it.

“Hey, Sansa.”

A shiver ran down her spine upon hearing that voice say her name. Slowly, she turned around to see Harry standing at the door of his own dressing room. He was clearly peeking out at everyone before noticing her. Sansa quickly took in his attire, appraising how well he looked in his wedding tux and hair gelled back from his face. He looked so handsome, and that only made her feel worse.

“Harry, you look great,” Sansa said softly, noting that his eyes were looking her up and down too. It both made her feel giddy and guilty. He was about to get married to Myranda, she shouldn’t be happy to have his eyes on her at all.

“You look gorgeous,” he returned, charming smile in place that never failed to make her swoon.

“I suppose so, though the pink clashes with my hair.” Harry snorted with laughter, stepping closer to her than was really appropriate. That made her feel uneasy. As much as she had wanted to date Harry before all this, there was definitely a line in the sand she would never ever cross.

He didn’t seem to notice that line though.

“I think it brings out your beautiful blue eyes,” Harry countered smoothly, reaching up to brush back a loose strand of hair around her face. Sansa eased back from him, smiling at the compliment, but trying to keep her distance as well.

Harry had always been a flirt, everyone at Vale University knew that. He charmed students to professors to just about anyone. Yet, Sansa didn’t like that aspect about him. She always thought he’d end his ways once he was in a good relationship. An idea that she always thought would pertain to her and him, not Myranda and him.

That didn’t seem to be the case though.

“Why did we never have a go at it?” Harry then asked, arching a brow as his eyes roved over her once more.

“A ‘go’? Like dating?” Sansa asked confusedly. He only laughed lightly, shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah, something like that.” She had a feeling it wasn’t anything like that. It sounded more like he was wondering why they never fucked rather than dated.

Pursing her lips together, Sansa turned away to peer at the crowd again. This time Jon was facing forward, frown deeply etched on his face. It only took her a moment to realize why. Though Jon was clearly seated on Myranda’s side of the church, her aunt Lysa and cousin Robin took it upon themselves to sit with him, including her creepy uncle Petyr.

Petyr was talking to Jon, lips twisted into a smirk. She was definitely going to have to make it up to him after this.

“So, what do you say?” Sansa blinked at the random question. She turned her head to notice Harry was leaning dangerous close to her.

“Excuse me?”

Harry rolled his eyes in what he probably thought was a good-natured move but looked far more arrogant on his face. “I said, we should hang out before you leave back for Winterfell. Get reacquainted and…all that.”

Sansa flinched at the touch of his hand on her shoulder with his thumb rubbing circles on her skin. She bit her lip to buy her time as the realization of what he was getting at came over her. Maybe it was a good thing she wasn’t getting married to this man. Maybe he wasn’t actually the man of her dreams as she once thought.

“Oh um…I’m sorry, Harry, but,” Sansa drifted off for a moment before looking back out at the crowd and pinpointing Jon once more. “I don’t think I’ll have time, what with showing my boyfriend, Jon around.” She waved her hand out to direct Harry’s gaze. He frowned, his hand dropping away before his charming smile came back with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Maybe next time then…”

Sansa sighed a soft breath of relief when he returned to his room. If memory served her right, she never truly talked about her cousin to anyone here. Jon was considered the one blight on her family’s reputation. Her grandparents were fans of arranged marriages, theirs being one as well, so they set up her father and mother’s marriage including his other sibling, Lyanna.

Lyanna Stark being young and wanting to live her life to the fullest before she was pushed into marriage with a man she knew nothing about, she went on a trip to Dragonstone for spring break before her high school graduation. She meant a man by the name of Rhaegar Targaryen. She had her fun, came back home to graduate and wed Robert Baratheon.

Though the marriage didn’t last when she found out she was pregnant, and it wasn’t Robert’s.

Lyanna found herself divorced at eight months pregnant while Rhaegar would not acknowledge their fling, much less the child that was his. It was especially damning when it was found out that he was married with two kids of his own. Sansa was only four with her little sister, Arya on the way when Lyanna found out she had ovarian cancer.

Jon came to live with them while she went through chemo, but the cancer was too far advance, and she passed five months later. Rhaegar still refused to acknowledge Jon as his, so that left Eddard Stark, Lyanna’s older brother to take Jon in completely.

It caused quite the strain in her parent’s marriage. Her family was well known and highly respected and with Jon’s father unacknowledged, it left him a Stark bastard. Her mother helped take care of him, but she was still distant with him, Sansa remembered.

Her mother had a hard time accepting Jon at first, it was only when he was fourteen, getting into fights in school, that Catelyn finally stepped forward and had a long talk with him. She remembered going out to visit their uncle Benjen up North while her mother and Jon stayed behind that weekend. When they came back, everything had changed between them.

Sansa still felt different about Jon though. She could never quite put her finger on why or what it was, but there was something about him that made her keep her distance. At first, she originally kept her distance because of her mother doing so, and she was nothing, if not a mama’s girl. Yet, after Catelyn finally accepted Jon like a fourth son, Sansa still found herself keeping her distance with him though.

She never felt like he was a brother though he grew up with them like one. Robb and her other siblings considered Jon a fourth brother, but Sansa just couldn’t see him that way. It was so complicated to tell people the story, so it was easier to not mention him at all. Jon never felt like a brother to her and she never felt the same about him as she did with her other brothers.

It was just…different…

“Sansa, we need to do some final pictures,” Mya stated, popping her head out of the door. “It’s almost over,” she added as reassurance.

“It’s almost over,” Sansa repeated to herself as she got tugged back in…

\------------------

The wedding ceremony went by rather quickly. Sansa made her way down the aisle, smiling when she caught Jon’s eyes and averting her gaze when she noticed Petyr’s lingering gaze. It was a beautiful ceremony though and it was a bit reassuring when Harry managed to keep his gaze on his wife to be rather than anyone else.

After their encounter, it was easy to watch Harry and Myranda kiss as they were pronounced as husband and wife. Sansa even vaguely thought in her mind, good riddance.

The pictures after the wedding ceremony were decidedly not quick. Myranda was bossy and demanding, making the photoshoot last forty minutes longer than it was supposed to be. By the time they made their entrance into the reception hall, Sansa was starving, and her feet were aching from the heels she was forced to wear. They made her and Mya taller than most everyone there and caused a painful ache in the arches of her feet.

The normal beginning dances commenced then everyone was quickly seated and stuffing their faces. Sansa located Jon near the back, seated with a few others though he seemed to be more interested in his phone again.

After she finished eating, Sansa made her way over to him, wishing for some normalcy. She was swiftly intercepted by the last people she wanted to see.

“Sansa, sweetheart! You looked so beautiful up there!” aunt Lysa declared loudly, wrapping her up in a tight embrace. Robin seemed more interest in his phone with barely a wave to her then she was eloped in another embrace that lasted far longer than was necessary or appropriate.

“You looked absolutely beautiful,” Petyr said in her ear, his hands sweeping up and down her back much to her disgust.

“Thank you, uncle Petyr,” Sansa mumbled, somehow managing to extract herself from his touch. That didn’t stop the swift swipe of his hand on her bottom when she got him to let her go though. Unease welled up tightly in her stomach.

“So, when are you going to get married, dear?” aunt Lysa questioned jokingly, brushing back loose strands of hair from Sansa’s face. Now that her aunt was on anti-depressants, she was much more loving and sweeter. It was a nice contrast to the last time Sansa had been around her.

“Oh, you know, just wanting to focus on my career first,” Sansa stated with a shrug, plastering a fake smile on her lips.

Her aunt kept her in place, talking about Robin’s schooling and how much she missed having Sansa live with them while she was going to university. Sansa hadn’t missed that aspect at all. Her aunt’s crazy emotional range made it hard to be in her presence at the time while her uncle’s lecherous ways kept her locked in her room where she could avoid him at all costs. Robin hadn’t been too awful once he realized that life was not going to give him handouts all the time.

It was because of them that she managed to finish a four-year degree in just two and a half years. Though Sansa was more than grateful to not waste money on lodging or living on campus, she had more than her fill of her relatives to last a life time.

Sansa jumped when a hand landed on her shoulder. The soft squeeze made her relax instantly as Jon greeted her aunt and uncle again. Again, he helped her get through the uncomfortable conversation especially the leering gaze of her uncle.

“Isn’t this one of your favorite songs, Sansa? Care to dance?” Jon offered quickly, tugging her away before she could say otherwise.

Jon pulled her onto the dance floor, placing a hand on her waist while holding her hand in his. Sansa smiled, sighing in relief as they slow danced to the smooth ballad.

“Thank you, Jon. I was trying to make my way to you before they stopped me,” Sansa explained dreadfully, following his slow-moving steps.

“Your aunt and cousin mean well, that uncle on the other hand…” Jon drifted off, but the look of disgust and anger told her enough to know his feelings on Petyr Baelish. Sansa giggled at his expression, a smile practically splitting her face in half. Jon’s eyes seemed to soften as he stared at her. “You looked radiant up there, you know. Stunning, r-really.”

A flush of heat came to her cheeks at the compliment he delivered her. Out of all the compliments she received today, Jon’s was the most endearing and sweetest to hear. It made her heart thump heavily inside her chest while her hands gripped his shoulder and hand tightly in her grasp. Jon’s hand moved to her lower back, keeping her close to him as they danced.

“You look very handsome, yourself,” Sansa said breathily, taking in his hair pulled back in a bun though little curly strands escaped to frame his face. His beard was closely shaven, giving him a cleaner appearance than usual. Sansa found she liked it; a lot.

Jon shook his head, self-depreciating frown on his lips. “You do,” Sansa insisted, leaning forward to capture his gaze. His dark grey eyes locked on her light blue ones and it felt like everything around her melted away. That strange bubbling erupted in her stomach like it always did when Jon looked at her like that.

Like she was the only thing worth looking at.

“Sansa.”

Mya appeared to their right, face twisted into a frown with a hint of concern on her features. They stopped dancing abruptly, Jon pulling his hands away though she wished he hadn’t. She missed his warmth already.

“Myranda is having a situation,” Mya continued, tugging her away. Sansa glanced back at Jon, he merely smiled at her, pressing his hands into his trouser pockets while watching her be pulled away.

Sansa found herself in the women’s bathroom where Myranda was crying her eyes out in one of the stalls, bellowing about being a ‘fat cow’ and ‘Harry not wanting to ever touch her again’. She took a deep sigh then squared her shoulders before knocking on the stall that the bride was hiding within.

“Myranda tell me what’s wrong?” Sansa called out.

“Harry will never touch me again!” she cried out, dissolving into pitiful sobs. She turned to Mya with a brow arched.

“She ripped a seam on the side of the bodice,” Mya stated tiredly. “She also drank a little too much.”

Sansa sighed again. “Alright, Mya go back to the church, I’m sure there’s sewing kit in the back rooms.”

Once Mya left, Sansa turned back to the stall. As much as she was hurt by Myranda knowingly taking a man that her supposive best friend liked, she just wasn’t the type of person to hate on someone she still begrudgingly cared about. So, she knocked on the stall again.

“Everything is going to be fine, Myranda. I’m going to sew up your dress then you’re going to go out there and show your husband how grateful he should be to have you as his wife.” Myranda sniffled beyond the door. “Remember, he proposed to you because he wanted to keep you to himself. Weight has nothing to do with it, trust me.” Sansa could remember the crude comments about Myranda’s bust size that the many men around them, Harry included, had said.

“I feel gross though! Every time he wants to touch me, my skin crawls and I don’t want him too! It’s because I’m disgusting and gross!” Myranda cowed once more.

“Hey! You listen to me, Myranda Hardyng! He wants to touch you, but you don’t feel good, so that means there is something about you that is different. Think about it, what has changed?” Sansa questioned, pressing her ear to the stall door.

As Myranda went quiet, Sansa remembered her mother stating how she felt when she was carrying Rickon in her belly. She didn’t want anyone to touch her including her husband. Sansa also unfortunately remembered that Harry and Myranda had quite the healthy sex life.

“Myranda…are you pregnant?” Sansa waited with held breath before she heard the lock unlatch. She barely had time to step back before the door opened. Myranda was red-eyed, red cheeked, and a pitiful mess. Her bottom lip started to tremble. “Oh honey,” Sansa cooed, opening her arms up. The bigger girl fell into her embrace, holding her tightly as she told her she only found out three weeks earlier.

“But Harry didn’t want to have children so quickly! What do I tell him?!” Myranda cried into Sansa’s shoulder, clutching at her tightly. She stroked her back, trying her best to soothe her.

“Tell him the truth then you both figure out what to do from there. He loves you even though he’s a flirt, he loves you.” Sansa wrinkled her nose as she remembered the conversation with him earlier. At least, she hoped he loved her.

“I got the kit!” Mya announced as she rushed into the bathroom. She paused at the sight of them before smiling softly. “Let’s get that dress repaired, shall we?”

Sansa spent the next thirty minutes sewing up Myranda’s dress as she talked through her feelings before bursting into more tears as she apologized to Sansa about stealing Harry from her. Myranda was definitely drunk, Sansa thought as she patted her shoulder while telling her it was alright.

Truly, it was.

This trip was becoming quite the eye opener for her. Once Sansa finished sewing the dress up, she and Mya helped fix up Myranda’s make-up until it was hardly noticeable that she had been balling minutes earlier. Upon opening the door, they found Harry waiting and the moment he saw her, he was sweeping Myranda away, whispering words into her ear and stroking her back.

“He’s a jerk, but I do think he cares about her,” Mya commented, wrapping her arm around Sansa’s shoulders. “You dodged a bullet, Sans.”

“Like I was in the matrix,” Sansa added with a nod.

“So, who’s your date? You got pretty cozy with him,” Mya continued as they walked away from the bathroom. Sansa blushed at the implication of her words.

“Oh Jon, he’s uh…” Mya arched her brow suggestively. “He’s my cousin,” Sansa stated firmly.

“Ahhhh,” Mya answered, giving her a wink before she left Sansa behind.

“What do you mean ‘ahhh’ and that wink? Mya! He’s just my cousin,” she insisted, but Mya only laughed as she walked away.

Sansa shook her head though her blush stayed in place. Jon was just her cousin, she lamented in her mind, but then he never felt like a cousin like Robin was, nor did he feel like a brother either.

A hand touched her waist, making her recoil only to find her uncle Petyr beside her. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, my dear. I hope you have one dance to give to your uncle.”

Sansa wished to tell him ‘no’, but they were already on the dance floor and her uncle was pulling her towards him to dance. She placed her hands safely on his shoulders, grinding her teeth when his hands landed on her hips instead of her waist. The older she got, the more liberties he seemed to take with her.

“I’m surprised you took your cousin Jon as your date,” Petyr remarked thoughtfully as he spun her around the floor. “I would have expected a man of your interest or even your brother. You must have been desperate to ask him though.”

The urge to flinch was strong because she was that desperate, but now Sansa didn’t feel that way. Actually, she felt incredibly lucky that Jon agreed to come with her and she didn’t like the way Petyr was insinuating that Jon was only good for desperate situations.

“He was the first man I thought of, actually,” Sansa grounded sweetly.

“Oh really?”

“Yes, and you want to know what else uncle?” Sansa leaned in further until her lips were almost touching his ear. “He’ll be the only man to help me out of my dress and into bed tonight.”

Petyr stopped moving entirely, jaw dropping. Sansa smiled sweetly, pushing his jaw closed with a soft pat on his cheek. “Thanks for the dance uncle,” she hissed out, pulling out of his hands and leaving him stranded on the dance floor.

Her cheeks were flaming as she moved through the throng of people, searching for the one that made her stomach flutter and heart race. This trip was truly an eye opener in more ways than one. She found him seated at a table, glass of wine in one hand while his phone in the other. Sansa stuttered in her walk though, wondering if Jon was truly interested in her like she was realizing she was in him.

Memories of growing up with Jon flooded her mind. Though she had been distant with him, he was always first to play her make-believe games. He never broke character and catered to her every whim even when they had grown apart as they aged. Honestly, she could have asked any of the men that work at her job, but Jon was the only person she wanted to ask after her siblings. If she was even being truly honest with herself, Sansa knew Robb was going on his trip weeks earlier and that Arya and her younger brothers would never want to go.

She knew Jon would go, regardless.

He always did.

Sansa stopped in front of Jon’s seat. He glanced up then immediately turned off his phone upon seeing it was her. “Crisis averted?” he asked jokingly.

“Yep.”

“I think their going to get ready to do the send off for the happy couple,” Jon noted, looking around her body, but she didn’t move a budge.

“I’m sure they are.”

Jon chuckled. “What’s with you?” he asked next.

“Just realized something that’s far more important.” She shrugged lightly, smiling down at him.

Watching her smile, his eyes seemed to darken. “And what’s that?” Jon asked huskily. His breath hitched when she seated herself across his lap.

“You.”

“Me?”

“You,” Sansa mumbled against his lips as she kissed him. Jon cupped the back of her head while covering the smooth expanse of exposed skin on her back with his other. Their lips shifted and pressed tightly together then her tongue was dipping into his mouth, tangling tightly with his.

Jon groaned, holding her tightly to him while he devoured her lips. Sansa cupped his cheeks, tilting his head back, so she could dominate the kiss further. She never thought she would be here at her best friend’s wedding, making out with her cousin, but there she was.

Sansa could hear people shouting as they did the sendoff, but she was far too enraptured in Jon to care. She pulled back to give a light nip at his bottom lip. Jon moaned her name, opening his eyes to reveal nothing but dark pupils and a ring of grey.

“Thank you for coming with me, Jon,” Sansa said softly, caressing his stubbled cheek.

“More than worth it,” he answered quietly, trailing his fingers down the nape of her neck. “Oh, and Sansa?”

“Hmmm?”

“I like your lopsided breasts.” Sansa wrinkled her nose into his stubbled cheek.

“I really hate you, Jon.”

“That’s too damn bad because I love you…”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, the whole breast thing is something that has happened to me with a dress I thought looked good on me until I realized the size difference of my breasts. I thought it would be a funny opening for the story. I also thought the relationship between Myranda and Sansa was interesting for the fact that Sansa more or less forgives her especially since she dodged a bullet with Harry anyway. Sansa's a good person like that (and I have experience being that person as well...). 
> 
> Also the comment of Sansa dodging a bullet like in the matrix is something my sister had said to me about my ex-best friend's husband and that was my answer. I dodged that bullet so hard I could put Neo to shame! Hahahaha. Hope y'all enjoyed this oneshot! Hopefully the next one will be smutty! ^_~


End file.
